Rafe doesn’t laugh at his crappy joke. Instead, he stares at me with sea-green eyes too similar to Angelo’s. But it’s not just his likeness to his brother that makes me uncomfortable. Behind the charm and the smile, there’s something scarily stoic about him. He oozes power out of every perfect pore, filling the room with his presence. Tonight, he wears a navy suit, pinstripe shirt, and a rose-gold collar pin, complete with a small chain. He has that same untouchable air as his brother. I can’t ever imagine him doing anything normal, like standing in line at Starbucks, or driving his car
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